


Futile

by EllieMurasaki



Series: Take Me For What I Am [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bechdel Test Pass, Community: 100_prompts, Episode: s01e03 Dead in the Water, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-17
Updated: 2010-06-17
Packaged: 2017-10-10 03:58:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/95234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieMurasaki/pseuds/EllieMurasaki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes lonely people appreciate company. Sometimes lonely people prefer to be left alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Futile

Andrea balanced the boom box on her hip and the Barr Catering box on the boom box, steadying both with one hand so she could knock on Mrs. Sweeney's door. It was only a moment before Mrs. Sweeney answered. Andrea pressed play. The Beatles sang out:

_They say it's your birthday  
Well it's my birthday too, yeah  
They say it's your birthday  
We're gonna have a good time_

"Oh, Andrea, it's sweet of you to remember," Mrs. Sweeney said. "Come in, won't you?"

Andrea set the boom box on the coffee table and brought the cardboard box into the kitchen. She'd made a point of taking one of the boxes with nothing on it but the logo, a pair of ballet shoes (Barr, ballet barre; Chris's idea, since they'd met in college, getting their art-appreciation credit from watching the same production of _Swan Lake_) and the company name, the better to surprise Mrs. Sweeney.

Mrs. Sweeney opened the box and smiled. This year it was cupcakes, six in a circle around a seventh, frosted white with purple icing spelling out _HAP PY BIR TH DAY AUNT MEG_. "Andrea, you've outdone yourself," Mrs. Sweeney said.

"I'm glad you like it, Aunt Margaret," Andrea said. "Happy birthday."

Silence fell. Mrs. Sweeney made no move to eat any of the cupcakes—they'd mysteriously appear in the chapel annex after Sunday services, Andrea was sure—and her gaze kept wandering over to the little green soldiers arranged as though Mrs. Sweeney's son might come through the door any moment and resume playing at Vietnam.

It wasn't long before the silence was awkward enough for Andrea to make her excuses to leave. Maybe next year she wouldn't bother; this was obviously futile anyway.


End file.
